Approximately Yours (North Pole, Minnesota #3)(55)

She grabbed Grandma’s day planner and hauled it into the den off the kitchen. She took Grandma’s spot at the desk and opened the cover. Holly hadn’t spent as much time looking at this as she’d planned. She and Elda had done most of the things Grandma had scheduled for December, but it had become less about honoring her memory and more about just having fun in North Pole with Danny.

Holly glanced over at Danny’s house. It was dark. She checked the cuckoo clock on the wall. Three-fifty. The gingerbread contest would start in ten minutes.

She couldn’t blame Danny for not texting her back last night. She was an utter failure when it came to romance. Maybe someday she’d find someone who’d be able to deal with it, but today was not that day.

After flipping through the music on her phone, Holly slipped on her headphones and turned the volume all the way up, losing herself in Taylor Swift’s own personal melodramas. TS was Holly’s go-to broken heart playlist. She thumbed through the pages in Grandma’s calendar. It was a symbol of the impermanence of life. Holly was only eighteen years old, and already she was being forced to say good-bye to her grandmother, this house, this town, and a perfect dream life she’d created in her mind.

She’d cried about her grandmother after she died, of course; but in public, she’d always tell the story with a smile and detached pride about how Grandma died. “She was lying by the pool in California with a Moscow Mule in her hand. So badass.”

It was badass. And it was awesome that her grandma didn’t suffer, that she’d lived a long life, that she’d stayed healthy and was able to enjoy life until her last day. But it so, so fucking sucked that Holly didn’t get to say good-bye. And it so, so, so fucking sucked that Holly was such a failure as a granddaughter, especially now that she knew her grandmother had been bragging about her to her friends and trying to set her up with the incredibly cute boy next door. Holly could’ve made the time to visit North Pole. She could’ve asked her grandma more questions about her life and her past. But she hadn’t. Not because she didn’t care, but because she’d gotten so used to cutting herself off from people. It had become such a habit that she even managed to cut off her grandma, one of her favorite people on the planet.

Grandma should’ve died knowing for sure how much Holly cared about her. Holly should’ve told her. Now it was too late.

And here she was, repeating the same mistakes, just on a smaller scale.

She wasn’t silly enough to think that she and Danny Garland were meant-to-be or some nonsense, but, still, his existence had profoundly affected her life. He was the one, indirectly, who got her thinking about studying architecture as a career. Now that they were older, he was one of the few people on the planet who understood her, and who wanted to understand her. She’d screwed that up, as well.

And now she was sitting here alone, blowing out her eardrums, avoiding Danny again. The final round of the competition was starting. A tear rolled down her cheek. He deserved to win again, and he deserved happiness. It was what she’d been trying to bring him all along.

Resolved, she stood and pushed her grandma’s chair back in. She turned up the volume on one of Taylor Swift’s more powerful anthems, letting the music fill her. She’d go watch Danny win. She’d cheer him on and expect nothing in return, but she’d show him definitively how much he meant to her, how much she truly hoped he was happy. She couldn’t leave North Pole without him knowing.

With the music still pumping, Holly pulled on a pair of shoes and a jacket and opened the front door. Danny Garland, mid-knock, nearly fell right into her arms.

And Holly nearly fell into his. Her knees faltered, but she managed to step backward. She ripped off her headphones, and a ringing filled her ears. She could hear the blood pulsing through her body.

“I’ve been knocking forever,” he said.

Oh my God, was he cute. The two of them might never be this close again. He was leaning forward, his hands gripping the handles of his crutches, and he had a slightly crooked smile on his lips. His sky-blue eyes, however, betrayed his nervousness. Holly was pretty sure hers did, too.

“I was listening to music.” She said that too loudly. Her ears were still recovering from Taylor Swift’s voice blasting against her brain.

Danny was still smiling at her. He shouldn’t be smiling at her.

She dragged her eyes away from his lips and focused on her grandma’s old mailbox off in the distance. “Danny, I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“But I want to say it.” She still couldn’t look at him. This was uncharted territory for Holly Page.

She took a deep breath. That was the old Holly. The new Holly told people how she felt no matter how scary it was. “You mean a lot to me, Danny. I know that’s weird, but I got into architecture because of you, because you made me up my game in the gingerbread contests. I studied math and angles and structure. I read books about architects and architecture. As a kid, I’d always loved drawing and sculpting and stuff, but it was because of you that I found the art in buildings.” Now she looked at him. Some unrecognizable emotion settled in his eyes. Old Holly would’ve written it off as confusion or revulsion, but new Holly saw it as something different—he was concentrating, listening. To her. “I just wanted to thank you for that.”

He let that hang there for an agonizing beat, then he said, “I used to sit by my front window during Christmas break waiting for you to show up. I’d tell people I quit doing the gingerbread contest because I was too busy.” He rolled his eyes. “But it was really because you weren’t there. Why bother competing if my biggest rival wasn’t going to show up?”